


Liberation

by AngelDesaray



Category: Supernatural, The Handmaid's Tale - Margaret Atwood
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Aftermath of Violence, All The Smut Scenes are Consensual Smut, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Dystopia, And the non-con isn't with Jensen Jared or Misha, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Tragedy, Awesome Misha, Awesome Misha Collins, BAMF Jared, BAMF Jared Padalecki, BAMF Jensen, BAMF Jensen Ackles, Comfort, Comfort Sex, Comfort/Angst, Crossover, Domestic Fluff, Dystopia, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Escape, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Smut, Fugitives, Gen, Gentle Sex, Gun Violence, Heavy Angst, Heroic Misha, Heroic Misha Collins, Hurt Jensen, Hurt Jensen Ackles, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, I don't drink so I was perfectly sober writing this, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Torture, Intense, J2M is unmarried, Liberation, Light Angst, Multi, Multiple Pairings, Multiple Partners, Multiple Relationships, Nobody Come After Me, Oral Sex, Past Abuse, Past Domestic Violence, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Sexual Abuse, Patriarchy, Physically Hurt Jensen, Physically Hurt Jensen Ackles, Protective Jared, Protective Jared Padalecki, Protective Jensen, Protective Jensen Ackles, Protective Misha, Protective Misha Collins, Rebellion, Rebellious Jared, Rebellious Jared Padalecki, Rebellious Jensen, Rebellious Jensen Ackles, Rebellious Misha, Rebellious Misha Collins, Rescue, Rescue Missions, Romance, Romantic Fluff, Rough Kissing, Rough Sex, Secret Relationship, Sex, Sexism, Smut, Soft Jared, Soft Jared Padalecki, Soft Jensen, Soft Jensen Ackles, Soft Misha, Soft Misha Collins, The Non-con is referenced/mentioned not shown, The boys are unmarried in this okay guys, This Is What Happens When I Dream, Tragedy, Unmarried Jared, Unmarried Jared Padalecki, Unmarried Jensen, Unmarried Jensen Ackles, Unmarried Misha, Unmarried Misha Collins, Vaginal Sex, Violence, What Have I Done, What Was I Thinking?, Why Did I Write This?, Yes This All Started With a Bizzare Dream
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-22
Updated: 2018-04-24
Packaged: 2019-04-26 13:05:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14402730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelDesaray/pseuds/AngelDesaray
Summary: Natasha Trinity Davis is a Handmaid in the new order, Gilead, what used to be the United States.  It's not even been a year since the reformation, and while she's managing to survive in the new order, she's finding it more and more difficult every day.  The only good thing that's happened to her since Gilead's rise was the death of her previous Commander.But with his death comes change, namely in the form of a blue eyed Angel living in The Castle with Trinity's new Commander.  Officially, he goes by Dimitri.  But between Trinity and him...it's Misha.But Misha's a risk--they're forbidden each other, and shouldn't even be interacting.  They both know it.  So when Trinity's life gets thrown into the line of fire, Misha makes an arrangement.Escape.Rebellion.Liberation.





	1. The Castle

The Castle.

An ancient looking stone building composed of what seemed like endless halls and rooms, complete with a bridge that connected the island and its 50 acres of land in the center of a grand lake to the mainland.

The Castle hadn't always been here.  The rich--now deceased--Commander had made it specially built for his own vain desires, wanting to feel like royalty to go with his new position as part of the ruling class of Gilead (the new order in what had once been the United States).  Apparently, the fact that as a Commander he was allowed a Wife, Marthas, Guardians, and a Handmaid hadn't been enough for him.  Now, with his murder, The Castle was just a looming, empty castle filled with dark secrets the world no longer cared to hear.

And it would keep it's secrets, possibly until it crumbled to dust and settled at the bottom of an expanding lake.  But tomorrow, it would be filled with people once more.

Natasha Trinity Davis was one of the few who had stayed when the Commander died.  She was surprised she hadn't just been moved to another household, but had been instead told she would be staying in the Castle and serving its new resident Commander when he arrived.

She'd incorrectly believed with the previous Commander's death, she would finally be escaping the halls that held a thousand bloody memories.  If her luck could continue just a little while longer, then perhaps the new Commander wouldn't be as bad as the previous one.

Maybe.

That monster's death had been an unexpected blessing with a heavy price, but with her record, it would be just her luck for the new Commander to be worse somehow, even more vile.

She wouldn't know until tomorrow.

Trinity let her hand run along the smooth stone of the darkened corridor, taking this brief, stolen moment to wander the castle before the new staff arrived.  There were hardly any men in the castle right now, just a small handful to keep an eye on the handful of women who were being reassigned to the Castle's new Commander.  That meant Trinity had a chance to get out and explore with a much slighter risk of getting caught.

She was supposed to stay in her room at all times when she wasn't carrying out her duties.  She'd never been good at confinement.  Trying to survive in this new order was slowly eating away at her sanity.

Quietly, Trinity followed the wall her hand currently grazed across, bare feet careful not to make any noise that might attract the attention of any remaining Guardians--the male soldiers who carried out menial functions, bodyguard duties, and routine policing--in the castle.  She looked like a ghost, black hair free from the confinement of the Handmaid's uniform and tumbling in loose waves down to the small of her back (Women weren't allowed to cut their hair.  It was either shave it all off or never cut it).  Not only that, but her nightgown was pure white and loose, billowing around her with every movement.

It was like she was The Castle's phantom.  With the part she'd played in its bloody secrets, she might as well be.

But no...Aida would have been the Castle's phantom.  Or perhaps its vengeful spirit.  Aida had been the one to murder the Commander, to poison him without a shred of remorse.  And Despite the torture, she'd never given her reason for killing the man.

At least, she'd never given the real reason she'd killed him:  Trinity.

The Martha Aida--Marthas being servants, and always female--had been her one confidant, the one person Trinity thought she might be able to turn to.  With all that had been happening, she'd thought if she just had someone she could talk to, she might retain some sanity, or be relatively okay.  At least, she might survive her two years of service without going insane.

But no...there had been fire left in that Martha yet, and when Aida heard about the things the Commander would do to Trinity, she was swift to act as an avenging angel, no matter what the consequences to herself would be.

So it was that two deaths hung over Trinity's head, blood on her hands--her abuser and her avenging angel.

And they were burdens she would never be able to unload, burdens that would have to remain forever locked inside her, lest she bring death upon herself, as well.

Moonlight filtered down through some of the warped glass windows, casting a haunting glow through the hall and partially illuminating the path before her as Trinity wound deeper and deeper into the maze of the stone building.  She pushed further and further down, until light no longer reached her.

There she stood, silent and still in the middle of the dungeons.  So far, they'd been unused--to the knowledge of the general staff, most of which was now scattered across Gilead.  The dungeons were empty, barren, dark, and despite their supposedly unused state, Trinity could imagine a thousand horrors already residing in these walls.  As secret as the bloodstains no one could see on her white nightgown.

It was like the dungeons were a reflection of herself.

* * *

The procession coming up to the Castle was long.

Understandably.  Apparently, this Commander was even more of a big deal than the previous one, and The Castle required a lot of upkeep by itself.  Trinity stood in her respective place among the smattering of Guardians and Marthas still stationed at The Castle, dressed from head to neck in pure red, her white headpiece designed to keep her face hidden from anyone unless they stood directly in front of her.  She was keeping her head and eyes down, but managed to look up  _just enough_ so she could secretively watch what was happening.

She'd have to be careful not to get caught.  The most vicious tortures and punishments were doled out for the slightest offense these days.

The Commander, of course, came first--yet another older man, as Commanders usually were, though this one looked refined with his silvery hair and trim beard.  His Wife got out with him, dressed in the usual blue, her disdainful eye immediately falling on Trinity.

The status of a Wife was the highest social ranking a woman could receive in the new regime.  But when the Wife was infertile, a Handmaid was assigned to the Commander so procreation could still happen.

And this wife was clearly a jealous wife.  Not good.  Trinity's chances of survival was already looking slimmer, just by the look the woman was giving her.

A few Guardians were with them, the Marthas and the majority of the Guardians taking up the rear of the procession.  It wasn't them that drew her attention, however.  It was the oddity of an Angel among them.

An actual _Angel_ , the soldiers of Gilead, their rank just below that of a Commander.

Usually they were constantly out at the front lines, fighting the resistance.  But here one was, at the front of the procession with the Commander, black hair fighting for freedom from underneath the standard military uniform hat, blue eyes cast downwards and avoiding looking at the mass of servants and lower-class soldiers around him.

No...those eyes weren't looking down.  They had peeked upwards at her and caught her gaze.

For a few heart stopping moments, Trinity stayed locked in place, the two of them still staring at each other, and a voice in her head told her she'd been caught, she'd stared, she'd looked somewhere she shouldn't, and she was already going to die, not even a year into the new world, and she'd already signed her death warrant.

But...he didn't say anything.  Didn't yell.  Didn't draw attention to her.  He just held her gaze with a curious expression, silent, pensive...

"Dmitri!"

The Angel blinked and looked away, freeing Trinity to look at her feet and calm her erratic heart, trying to figure out how she'd managed to dodge death.


	2. Gossip

The first few days always involved extra caution.  It was a new household, with new temperaments and preferences.  The Marthas had a tougher time, since they had to figure out the new Commander’s tastes, as well as the Wife’s, both with food and with cleaning.  Trinity just had to keep her head down and try not to step on anyone's toes, to try to keep out of everyone's way. Out of sight, out of mind, that was her motto.

And considering the look the new Commander's wife had given her, she wanted to be as far from the Wife as possible.  She'd already heard the stories of jealous wives killing Handmaids, and she did not want to become one of those stories.

However, a part of her also wanted to see if there was anyone in the new staff that might associate with her.  Handmaids seemed to be isolated and ignored by everyone, possibly because of their function, possibly because everyone knew they'd only be around for two years, at the most.

At the very least, Trinity knew that if she wanted news, the Marthas were the ones to go to--especially Marthas coming from a different part of Gilead.

So, doing her best to seem inconspicuous, Trinity made her way down to the kitchens, ready with an excuse that she was going to see if the Marthas needed her to make a run to the mainland for food, when really she was going down there to hear the gossip.

If she was lucky, they would let her stay and converse a while, or at least listen to what news they had to share.

As Trinity approached the kitchen, she could hear the soft buzz of conversation.  The gossiping had already started, then. She did her best to smooth out any wrinkles on her red uniform out of habit, then very gingerly stepped into the room.

Conversation stopped almost immediately.  Trinity didn’t even get the chance to hear what they had been talking about before she entered the room.  She should have lingered a little longer before entering, for this very reason.

There were three of them in the room, two of them cooking, one looking like she was getting ready to start cleaning.  All of them were part of the new staff.

After several moments of the Marthas staring at her, it became obvious they were waiting for her to state why she was intruding.  She was starting to get the sense that they wouldn’t be willing to gossip around her, either.

“I came to see if there was anything you needed me to go to the mainland to pick up,” Trinity said softly, folding her hands atop one another in front of her and doing her best to appear meek or bashful.

“No, we don’t.  We’re good until the next coupon disbursement.  If we need something, I’ll send Yara after you,” the oldest of the three said in a clipped tone, nodding towards the youngest Martha, the one preparing to start cleaning for the morning.

Trinity bowed her head respectively, reluctantly turning and leaving the room as the clipped response had been a clear dismissal.

If they didn’t pity you, they hated you.  Such was the curse of Handmaids, the concubines of Gilead.  It seemed she was officially living in a household more hostile than the previous one, and she hadn’t even met the new Commander yet.

Two years in this environment ahead of her, and no escape.  Whatever sanity she had left she was bound to lose.

Trinity didn’t make her way back to her room--she wasn’t ready to spend the rest of the day staring at the same four walls.  Instead, she stopped herself just outside the kitchen, leaning against the wall and listening to whatever was said after she left.

“Foolish girl.”

“That one won’t last long--mark my words.”

“What was it you were saying Yara?  About the escapes?”

“Yes, I was there when it happened--they were transporting a group of people who’d tried to escape Gilead, tried to jump the border.  One of the other Marthas set them free. Most were recaptured, but a handful got away. Some boys, I caught two of their names: Thomas and Ghenny.  There was a girl, too, that got away, but I didn’t catch her name. I saw her bolt, though--with the boys.”

“Poor sods--they’ll probably starve to death before they reach the border.  Would have been better off being integrated.”

“Or killed.”

“They only do that to the ones that won’t conform--ship them off to the Colonies to work them to death.”

Trinity didn’t listen after that.  Her mind was swimming with the small tidbit she’d heard, a flicker of hope she was afraid to nurture appearing in her chest.

Ghenny.  That wasn’t a common name, especially now.  Could the girl traveling with him be…

The door opened, and Trinity shuffled out of the way, Yara stepping out of the room and staring down the hall with her back to Trinity.  Trinity waited until the door swung shut before racing up to Yara, knowing she was taking a risk--despite the fact women were the most oppressed, they were the ones most likely to enforce the laws and report anyone acting out of line.  Yet she didn’t care--she had to know.

“Yara!” Trinity said breathlessly, latching onto the woman’s arm.  She seemed startled, frightened even, as Trinity came face to face with her.

“The girl that escaped with the two boys--did she have black hair, maybe some faded blue tips, brown eyes, really skinny and small, a birthmark on her neck?” Trinity asked before Yara could shake her off or try to send her away.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Yara returned nervously, eyes dodging left and right as she sought out anyone that could possibly be eavesdropping.

“Please, Yara, just...please,” Trinity begged.

Yara looked around again, still looking spooked.  “Yes,” she hissed before wrenching herself free of Trinity and hurrying down the hall with her cleaning supplies in hand.

Yes.

_ Yes _ .

She was alive.

Trinity turned and started making her way down the hall in a daze, fighting the instinct to cry tears of joy or relief at the revelation lest she run across someone and have to answer for her strange, and probably unacceptable in some way, behavior.

Not only was she alive, but she’d  _ escaped _ .

She wasn’t caught up in this waking nightmare of a new world.

She was  _ free _ , and with at least one person Trinity knew would keep her safe.

Trinity had to put her hand against the wall to steady herself, leaning over with her other hand over her heart as she tried to keep sobs at bay.

_ My little sister is alive, and she’s escaped this nightmare _ .

At least something had gone right.

“Are you okay?”

Trinity nearly leapt out of her skin at the sound of a new voice, a  _ male _ voice, head snapping up as she brutally shoved her emotions away, swallowing any tears or sobs with the sudden overwhelming fear of being caught.  Of somehow breaking some rule that had slipped her mind or that she wasn’t aware of.

There were too many rules on women for her to really keep track of.

Her heart skipped another beat when she realized that it wasn’t just some random Guardian standing in front of her doing their routine patrols, it was the Angel she’d accidently locked gazes with when the new household arrived.  His military hat was tucked under his arm, hair a mess like he’d just ran his hand through it four or five times, and concern glinting in those blue eyes, yet again focused on her.

Trinity instantly cast her gaze down, clasping her hands in front of her once more, afraid to push her luck.  She’d already looked at him out of turn once, she didn’t need to add a second one to it.

“I’m fine,” she said hurriedly, scrambling to think of how she was supposed to address an Angel.  She’d never come across one before, only heard about them. Was she doing this right? Did she need to give him a greeting--some special formal greeting?  Was she even allowed to be speaking to him?

“You didn’t look fine--are you sure?” he asked, and she thought his concern might be sincere, but she shook it off.

If there was any way to survive a place like this, it was to always assume that everyone was out to get you.  Living in constant paranoia wasn’t healthy, but it helped you survive longer here.

“I’m sure--I should be getting back to my room now,” she said, voice tight with panic, though she hoped he couldn’t tell, lest he think she was guilty of something other than eavesdropping and being outside of her room when she shouldn’t have been.  She tried to keep walking, but he stopped her with a hand on her arm. It was brief contact, and he quickly dropped his hand once he’d effectively stopped her, but it sent her anxiety through the roof.

“Wait--what’s your name?”

Trinity gaped at him for a moment, completely thrown off by the question.

“Of--” No, you’re not Ofdarling anymore, he’s dead.  You’re under a new Commander now. What was his name, what was his name…

“Ofhiggins,” she managed to force out.  The Angel was already shaking his head.

“No, not--not the name they make you use, _your_ name ,” he explained patiently, and definitely not unkindly.

However, it just made her suspicious.

_ Is he an Eye? Is he undercover, trying to see if I’ll slip up and do something I shouldn’t so he can report me?  Is he trying to trick me? _

He seemed to see she was dubious that his intentions were pure, even in such a simple matter as exchanging names.

Then again, nothing was innocent anymore.  Every move had to be watched and carefully calculated.

The Angel held out his hand.  “Here--I’ll go first. I’m Misha.”

Trinity gave him an odd look, no longer bothering to hide the suspicion in her face.  “I thought they called you Dmitri?”

“Yeah, well, they wanted to use my birth name...I always preferred Misha,” he said with a small shrug.

Trinity eyed his still proffered hand for a few moments, still reluctant to trust a man when she’d only seen him twice, counting this very moment.  She knew nothing about him, he was an Angel, one of the soldiers fighting the resistance, and his very presence in the Castle was suspicious.

“I--”

Looking over his shoulder, she saw two Guardians headed their way, making their routine patrol.

Not good.

Not good at all, for either her or the Angel.

“I have to go,” she said hastily, casting her gaze back to him.  No doubt he could see the terror in her eyes--but for her, it was starting to become her constant state of being.  Still…   “There’s power in names.”

And Gilead had already taken so much from her.

She wasn’t willing to give her name to a stranger, a man, nonetheless.

Not anyone she didn’t know if she could trust, that was for sure.

Before she could linger too long and say something she felt she’d regret, or the Guardians could be suspicious the encounter between her and the Angel--Misha--had been more than just a few passing comments, Trinity hurried along, leaving a slightly disappointed Misha to explain what had just happened to the suspicious Guardians now inquiring what the Handmaid was doing out of her room, and why he’d been talking to her.

He was able to brush the incident off, simply stating he’d been asking why she wasn’t in her room and she’d said she was coming back from asking the Marthas if they needed anything.

Reasonable and perfectly excusable, something easily overlooked.

Trinity spent the rest of the day locked in her room, caught between worrying that Misha was going to turn her in for her slights and reveling in the news that her little sister was alive and had escaped living in this kind of hellhole.


End file.
